The Wax and Wane of Her Heart
by brie3887
Summary: Following Francis's return after leaving to help Lola, Mary is plagued by her thoughts of their relationship.


**A/N: The prompt for this fic came from the Reign Francis and Mary FanForum. While I was scrolling through, I saw the challenge fic prompts and immediately was inspired by this one of the moon and tides. Just wanted to give credit where credit is due! To whoever developed this, thank you for the inspiration. **

Her eyes blinked open in the darkened room, only dimly lit by the dying fire. Besides her own breath, the slight waver of his own breathing drifted beside her. She slowly turned her head toward his frame. His curls were messy around the pillow as he lay on his back. The covers twisted around his waist, and his right arm slung languidly over his head. She saw his brow crease, and she wondered what he could possibly be dreaming about. The thump of her heart picked up a little, and she swallowed, looking away. For hours she had tried to sleep, but had only thought of his return. Her mind had walked a thousand miles in those few hours, worrying about their future.

The balcony was cool, and the summer breeze through the trees lingered around her lace covered shoulders. Bracing her hands about her arms tightly, she shivered. The moon was full and beautiful; its silver glow cast upon her face. The moon knew her thoughts; it could read her fears.

His weight had felt unfamiliar in their bed. For months, she had adjusted back to before their marriage, when she slept alone. Now he had returned, filling the cold sheets beside her, filling not only her bed, but her heart and mind once again. When he had left weeks ago, she had worried incessantly. Her rosary beads had not seen so much use in years, but it was in her prayers that she asked God to protect him from the plague. Night after night, tears wet her pillow with worry, and the nausea that settled in her stomach turned to an ache in her heart.

The waning and waxing tides in the distance were friends to the moon. That same moon that glanced down at her now, as it had so many nights before, controlled the roll of the ocean. It had almost done the same to her waning and waxing heart. One moment her heart swelled for his return, his touch, his kiss, and lately, it had ebbed instead. His return was bittersweet to her. When the tears each night had finally subsided, she had locked her heart, burying it somewhere in the recesses of her chest, not wanting to think about it or him. The castle had required so much of her: Catherine, plotting princes, hostile or sneaky takeovers. Each battle she fought was for him, for France, and all along she missed it, the most important need being asked of her.

Weight was lost, circles drawn around her eyes, paler lips, and weakness took over her like a creeping vine twisting around her soul. The vomiting, she thought, was from the stress of court, her lack of appetite, from her lack of time. But the moon knew. Each night, as it draped itself across her balcony, it listened to the beat of her heart and the trials of her mind. The only baby she could think of was his and Lola's. Was she alive? Was there a child? What were they doing together? Her hand went to her mouth, a small sob escaping, as she remembered her thoughts. Never did she consider her baby. She was too occupied with his business, with his life to think of a new one growing within her. Tears dripped down her cheeks, and she looked at the moon, wishing it would stop. Stop forcing her to consider her feelings, stop revealing the inner workings of her soul.

The shuffling of his feet startled her. Slowly, he ambled toward her, rubbing a sleepy eye with his fingers. She tried to catch her breath, stop the sobbing, and she wiped a few tears, looking away for a moment. "Mary?" He whispered softly. "What are you doing out here, darling?" When he said it, that word, "darling," she couldn't control the next lament that fell from her lips. He picked up the pace, quickly arriving at her side. "Mary? What is wrong?" She shook her head, falling into his open arms. He embraced her tightly. "Darling, it's alright. It's alright." He whispered at her temple. She felt his lips warmly kiss the side of her head as he soothed her. Her head lay softly on his chest, and she turned her eyes again to the moon, its omniscient stare viewing their private, nostalgic reunion. He pulled her away from him and steadied her, looking over her face, studying its changed, tired lines. "Are you alright?" She nodded silently. A lonely, left behind tear trickled down her cheek as her brown eyes turned up towards his. He sighed.

"I'm just glad you're back." She murmured. Averting her eyes, she traced the edging of his night shirt with her fingers wanting to feel the soft fabric against his neck. "We're glad you're back." She added looking back up at him. His mouth faintly smiled, and she felt her own lips turning upward.

"I'm glad I'm back too." He leaned to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes at his kiss. "Mary?"

"Mmm?"

"See those waves?" He pointed to the far tides. She nodded looking at him. "They always come back. The tide may go out, but the moon always brings it back, just as it will always bring me back, lighting my pathway home should I ever travel from you again." She felt tears again, but not of fear, rather of comfort. He would always come home to her. Laying her hand on his cheek, feeling the familiar firmness of his skin, she whispered that she loved him.

That night, beneath the all-knowing moon, they united, erasing their fears, dropping them like shards of broken glass, and instead savored their eternal love.


End file.
